


Saddle in Your Soul

by idaate



Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Domestic, Fluff, M/M, No Spoilers, it's not angst for once holy shit, spoiler free, they just go out on a date to pet a horse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-14
Updated: 2017-11-14
Packaged: 2019-02-02 05:24:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12720504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idaate/pseuds/idaate
Summary: “A petting zoo?” Momota looks up from trying to figure out exactly why the toaster is broken. “I mean, sure, why the fuck not, but why the sudden interest?”“Not just any petting zoo,” Ouma clarifies, swinging his legs at the kitchen table. “it’s a horse one! With a bunch of ponies and mares and colts and mules and such. So you’ll fit right in since you’re, y’know,” he waves a hand as he takes a sip of his hot chocolate, “as dumb as a mule. Or something.”.Momota and Ouma go on a date.





	Saddle in Your Soul

**Author's Note:**

  * For [grayimperia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/grayimperia/gifts).



> “A petting zoo?” Momota looks up from trying to figure out exactly  _ why  _ the toaster is broken. “I mean, sure, why the fuck not, but why the sudden interest?”

“Not just  _ any  _ petting zoo,” Ouma clarifies, swinging his legs at the kitchen table. “it’s a horse one! With a bunch of ponies and mares and colts and mules and such. So you’ll fit right in since you’re, y’know,” he waves a hand as he takes a sip of his hot chocolate, “as dumb as a mule. Or something.”

Momota doesn’t bother getting riled up and sighs instead, debating whether or not to just eat the bread as it was untoasted. “Yeah, well, if you say that I just won’t come with you to the petting zoo.”

“Horse petting zoo,” Ouma says, “and you’ll come with me! Because!”

Momota decides he prefers a toasted piece of bread, and flips the toaster over. “...because?”

“Because you love me!” Ouma declares, and when Momota glances over, he sees Ouma fumbling with his necklace before pulling it out from underneath his shirt and flashing the moon heart charm over in Momota’s direction. “See? See? Heeere’s my evidence!”

Momota feels the weight of his own matching necklace on his chest, and he sighs, turning back to the toaster. “Why’d I even hook up with you, Jesus.”

“Because I said yes!”

“You know,” Momota turns around once again, “there are a  _ bunch  _ of people who would do a lot to get a load of,” he motions vaguely at himself, “this, so you better. Fuckin’ watch what you say, because I could easily go for someone else if I wanted to.”

“Oh?” Ouma takes another sip from his mug. “Liiiiiike… who?”

“Like, Har--”

“If you’re gonna say Harumaki-chan, I’ll be seriously offended.” Ouma’s lips press into a thin line, and Momota crosses his arms for all of a few seconds before relenting. With a sigh, he makes his way over to Ouma and pats him on the head, wincing at the way the smaller boy tenses up for a split second before letting himself relax.

“Yeah, I’ll go with you tomorrow,” he says, and smiles when a grin a mile wide splits across Ouma’s face. “We haven’t actually gone anywhere in a while so, yeah. Yeah!”

“Yeah!”

“Yeah!”

“I’m so glad!” Ouma removes Momota’s hand from his head and kisses the back of it. “I knew my beloved Momota-chan would never let me down!”

“Well, yeah,” he huffs, “I’m the fucking best.”

“Anyway,” Ouma says, tossing Momota’s hand away, “you need to actually plug in the toaster for it to work.”

“It--” Momota sputters, “it is plugged in, fuck you!”

“Is it?”

Momota checks. It's not. He curses under his breath, and Ouma sings “Told you so!” in a way that makes Momota want to shove his fingers up Ouma’s nose.

 

.

 

Ouma’s like a little kid, hands held behind his back as he rocks back and forth on his feet. They've been waiting in line for all of fifteen minutes, now, a fact that Momota's been reminded of  _ constantly,  _ whether it be from Ouma or one of the other sobbing children in line. It's enough to make him lose it. Nearly.

It doesn't help that autumn is starting to fade into winter, the refreshing crisp of the air turning into something a bit more biting. Now Momota knows why Ouma was so frantic to get a ticket before it became too cold to do, well, anything outside. He exhales and watches the small white puff of air that shows up in front of his face before it dissipates. 

“Momota-chaaaan…” Ouma whines for the upteenth time, tugging at Momota’s gloves. “How loooong is this going to--  _ oof!” _

He’s cut off as Momota pulls his pom pom topped hat over his face, muffling his further complaints. “It's gonna take as long as it fucking needs to take,” he mutters, “but fortunately for both our sakes, I don't think it'll take that much longer. Like,” he motions at the front of the line, “look ahead of us. You’ve got fucking eyes.”

“Do I?” Ouma pulls his hat up and cups his hands over his eyes. “I can't see, suddenly, I don't know.”

Momota rolls his own eyes and hands the attendant nineteen hundred yen when she asks for it. He nearly considers making a joke about how Ouma needs a child ticket instead of an adult one, but when the attendant pauses and looks between the two of them and the cash in her hand he figures it’s a bit too on the nose of a joke to risk taking.

Ouma’s never been a person to stand still in one place for long, but that doesn’t make Momota any less perturbed when Ouma sees the horses being led out of the stables and begins to vibrate like he’s about to cross from one plane of reality to the next.

“Hey,” he says, “calm down.”

“Sorry,” says Ouma, and the fact that  _ Ouma Kokichi  _ is  _ apologizing _ just perturbs Momota even more. And it doesn’t when Ouma sits stone cold still, too. He bites his lip.

“Never fucking mind, just,” he takes his hand out of his coat pocket and motions vaguely at Ouma’s face, “don’t do that.”

“Well, make up your mind, Momota-chan!” Ouma says crisply. “Calming down or not calming down?”

“Just-- fuck, whatever you want. You wanted to go here.”

“There are children here,” Ouma singsongs.

“They’re gonna have to grow up at some fucking point,” Momota mutters, and pulls his scarf up over his mouth when a mother shoots a pointed glare in his direction. “Actually, yeah. They can wait a couple years before getting this mouth.”

“No one wants your disgusting mouth, Momota-chan,” Ouma says, and Momota closes his eyes. “Even people with mouth fetishes wouldn’t want to…”

Momota squeezes his eyes tighter as Ouma trails off. “Wouldn’t want to what, Ouma,” he mutters, and then, when Ouma doesn’t respond again, he opens his eyes. “Ouma--”

Ouma’s sticking his hand next to the mouth of a horse that had put its head over the fence. It bares its teeth at him, and Ouma giggles delightedly as he yanks his hand back. “Look look, Momota-chan! It likes me!”

“It tried to eat your hand,” Momota says, and Ouma snorts.

“Vore is a sign of trust!” He reaches his hand out to the horse’s nose again, and Momota raises an eyebrow as he barely touches the horse’s nostrils before giggling wildly once again and jerking his hand back.

“Jesus, did the horse fucking sting you or something?”

“Language!” Ouma clasps his hands together, grinning. “Oh man-- Momota-chan, look! Are you looking!”

“I sure am,” Momota sighs, and Ouma doesn’t even get to the horse’s nose this time before he has to yank his hand back and spin in a circle, jumping up and down.

“Momota-chan! Momota-chan!”

“Ouma, you’re actually five years old,” Momota says, but there’s no malice behind his words. Ouma makes a disappointed shooing motion at him, but he’s still staring at the horse, eyes lit up.

“And you’re actually a fun killer,” he says, “a super duper mean grinch with no friends.”

“I’ve got friends,” Momota says, “and it’s just-- Jesus, Ouma, touch the horse.” He reaches out to grab Ouma’s hand, but he skips out of the way and Momota sighs. “Fine, I’ll do it my fucking self.”

And he does, gently petting the horse’s forehead as Ouma lets out a little  _ eep  _ that Momota’s pretty sure he didn’t mean to do. The horse shakes its mane once and focuses its eyes on Momota, and he smiles. “Momota-chan, it’s gonna eat your face off!” says Ouma.

“No it’s not,” says Momota. “Hey, I’m not gonna pay for your ticket and then have you not even touch the animal. C’mon, it feels really nice. And I’m sure you’ll get along just fine, the both of you. ‘Cause you’re, y’know,” he waves his hand in the air, “both… both horses.”

Ouma stares at him, unamused. “Wow, never heard that one before!” he says, but that doesn’t diminish any of the childlike wonder in his eyes as he reaches out to the horse himself. It shakes its head again, and Ouma tenses up.

“Its fine, its not gonna hurt you,” Momota says, and Ouma bites his lip, still smiling. 

“I know that!” he says, but his hand rests on top of Momota’s instead of the horse’s head. Momota stares at him, and Ouma erupts into a fit of giggles all over again. Well, at least he’s not pulling away.

“That isn’t the horse.”

“Oh, sorry! I couldn’t tell. You’ve got so much ugly hair all over your long, long face anyways, it’s hard to tell the difference!”

“Alright-- okay, look here, I’m just gonna.” Momota exhales through his nose and gently places his other hand on top of Ouma’s. When Ouma doesn’t attempt to pull away, Momota removes the hand below Ouma’s so that his hand is finally touching the horse’s head. Momota hears Ouma inhale sharply, but he still doesn’t pull away. “You doin’ okay?”

“Yeah,” Ouma squeaks out, “I’m, I’m! I’m touching the horse, Momota-chan!”

“That you are.”

“I’m touching the horse!” he repeats. 

The horse shakes its mane, and Ouma laughs out loud, hand still planted firmly on the horse’s forehead.

“I’m touching the horse, I’m touching the horse-- oh man! Momota-chan, this is amazing!”

“Yeah, it’s pretty rad--”

“I love you so much!” Ouma laughs, and Momota’s face turns red. “But that’s a lie, of course! Probably! Maybe?” Ouma throws his head back and laughs harder, purple locks spilling out from underneath his cap, and Momota can’t find it in himself to be anything more than mildly annoyed.

 

.

 

“Hey, Ouma,” Momota nudges Ouma in the passenger’s seat, and he mutters something about stupid heads underneath his breath. Momota sighs and nudges him again. “Hey,  _ Ouma.  _ We’re home.”

“Mm… we’re what?” Ouma blinks awake, and Momota’s struck with how…  _ nice  _ Ouma looks waking up with a bedhead. Sure, he’s seen Ouma half asleep beforehand, but when he has it’s been when  _ he’s  _ just waking up as well and can’t really appreciate the boy for all that he is. That, or more often than not Ouma is the one who jolts awake before he does and he finds him without a hair out of place humming along to songs about birdhouses in the kitchen.

Ouma’s lower lip juts out in a fake pout. “Earth to Momota-chan, earth to Momota-chaaaan! I know that I’m an eye candy, but  _ jeez,  _ your googly goo goo eyes are super gross looking!” Ouma widens his eyes and sticks his tongue out mockingly.

“Sorry,” Momota mutters. Ouma blinks.

“Ah, wait wait, were you  _ actually  _ looking at me? Like that?” Ouma flutters his eyelashes dramatically and holds a hand to his chest. “Momota-chan! You know it’s rude to look at your girlfriend when she’s sleeping! Some people would call that voyeurism! You’d be a peeping tom!”

“You’re not my-- oh, for fucking get it.” Momota sighs and unbuckles himself, swinging out of the car. “We’re home, is what I wanted to say. Didn’t want you to wake up and see no one there and then have you wailing to me about how I abandoned you or some shit.”

“Aw!” Ouma skips in front of him, pushing open the door to their apartment complex and barely sparing the receptionist a glance as he rushes towards the stairwell. “That’s sweet of you to say! Wow, Momota-chan, what with you taking me out on that date…”

“D’you consider pony petting a  _ date?” _

“And you don’t?” Ouma sticks out his tongue for the second time in as many minutes. “And with you waking me up, and not to mention driving me home… I think I might actually be falling for you!”

“I’d fucking  _ hope  _ so,” Momota snorts and fumbles for his keys as they approach their floor. “I never fucking get you…”

“And I hope to keep it that way!” Ouma stands on his tiptoes and plants a firm kiss on Momota’s cheek, making him inhale sharply. He’s left standing there like an idiot as Ouma chirps “I’m gonna make us dinner, ‘kay? Anything for my bara husbando!” before dashing off.

It takes him a couple seconds to register what Ouma said before Momota frowns and says, “Never call me that again.”

**Author's Note:**

> I actually made two deals with ao3 user grayimperia that's why it's 2k and not 750 words long. So now Gray owes me .75 of a deal.
> 
> Please leave comments and kudos if you enjoyed!


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